


A Little Forgiveness

by irishavalon



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Bisexual Gaston (Disney), Gaston (Disney) Lives, Gaston gets a redemption arc, M/M, Post-Movie, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishavalon/pseuds/irishavalon
Summary: LeFou is certain he cannot remain by Gaston's side after what Gaston did at the castle that night. He walks away from a beaten and humbled Gaston and feels, for once, like he's made the right choice.So why do the most unlikely people seem to think otherwise?





	A Little Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a good nine months in the making. I hope you enjoy it.

Gaston awakens to hell in his bones. Every part of his body aches, and his head – Lord, _especially_ his head – pounds incessantly. He groans as he turns his head to the side without opening his eyes.

“Am I dead?” He gasps to the darkness behind his eyelids.

“No,” says a woman's voice to his right. “That's just what it feels like when you fall from a bridge at the top of a castle.”

Slowly, Gaston's memory fills in the details: pointing his gun, shooting from behind, the beast collapsing before Belle, a rumbling vibration, and then falling into blackness. “How...” Gaston whispers, “How am I still alive?” He finally opens his eyes, blinking for a few moments at the sudden brightness. He carefully turns his head in the direction of the woman's voice. “Agathe?”

She gives him an exasperated look. “I'm regretting it already, but I decided to give you a second chance.”

It takes Gaston's splitting head a moment to comprehend what she is saying. “What? You mean you saved me? How?” He pauses, then adds, “Why?”

“One question at a time. I'll catch you up later. At the moment, your friend LeFou has been waiting just outside the door.” She says.

Gaston turns his head away from her. “I don't want to see him. I wasn’t exactly kind to him at the castle.”

“Then I think he deserves an explanation.” Agathe stands. “Look, he hasn't slept or eaten since I brought you here. Let him speak.” She leaves the room. When no one returns right away, Gaston takes the time to glance around at his surroundings. He realizes Agathe has brought him to his own room, in his own house.

_Maybe he just wants to make sure I'm all right and then he'll leave,_ he thinks hopefully. A moment later, LeFou appears in the doorway and Gaston's heart sinks. LeFou's face is pale and he has dark circles under his eyes. And he looks positively livid.

“LeFou,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, hardly more than a breath. “I--”

“No.” LeFou interrupts. “No, it’s not your turn to speak. You said quite enough on the way to the castle, goading the villagers into a murderous mob against an innocent person. (And yes, Gaston, the beast was a _man_. You missed that little detail when your arrogance sent you plummeting to the earth.) You said enough in the battle against the enchanted furniture, when you left me for dead under a piano, when you shot someone who’d done nothing to you. So you can shut up for a moment.” LeFou stops, breathing heavily.

Gaston stares at him in bewildered and cowed silence before gesturing for him to continue with his less-bruised arm. But LeFou seems to have spoken most of what he planned to say when telling the other man to shut up, and instead merely glares scathingly at the bedridden Gaston for long, unbearable moments. Gaston squirms a little under the scalding-hot rage LeFou has fixed on him; it hurts terribly to move though, so he stills after an instant.

This fury is new on LeFou. Usually it was Gaston whose two emotions seemed to be anger and arrogance, and LeFou mostly served to calm him down or sing his praises. After a few moments of silent outrage, LeFou seems to find words for his anger. His voice doesn’t shake this time, though, and he doesn’t shout. Gaston almost misses the yelling anger; this calm, quiet temper unsettles him. “I am done with you. I cannot forgive you, and I cannot bear to look at you. Belle was right, Gaston. You were a monster that night. Something’s snapped in you, and I will not stick around to watch it devour you. So this is where we part ways. Good-bye.”

“LeFou,” Gaston chokes out, but LeFou, his lifelong friend, his brother-in-arms, his… dearest compatriot, is already leaving the room. The door slams shut behind him and Gaston feels his life shatter in the silence that remains. He listens to LeFou’s footfalls on the floorboards, down the stairs. He hears the front door close.

He shuts his eyes tight. He will not let the tears come. He will not let himself weep over the loss of his best friend, his longest friend, hell, his only _true_ friend in this town of fans and followers.

Agathe enters the room again, so silently he does not even hear the door opening or her footsteps, his eyes still squeezed shut against the pricking of the first tears since he was a small child. _“Men don’t cry,” his father had berated him when he was eight. “Stop that snivelling.”_

“Would you like me to fill you in on the more miraculous details of your survival now?”

Gaston flinches at her voice, then hisses at the pain in his abdomen from the harsh movement. He opens his eyes and looks at her face, torn between irritation and sympathy. So she heard the whole thing, then.

“If you could save my life, you can end it, too,” he says, his voice soft and ragged, an immense change from its usual, self-confident booming.

“I am not a killer. And I believe the rightful penance for your actions a week ago is living with your cruelty, and all the consequences that have come with it. The abandonment of your only friend, the loss of the woman you tried to force to love you, the villagers who will think twice about singing your praises next time.”

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 “LeFou? What are you doing here?”

LeFou looks up at Belle ( _Princess Belle_ , now, LeFou reminds himself). He sets down the teacup in his hands, feeling an embarrassed blush crawling up his face.

“I’m sorry. I can leave if you’d prefer--”

“Nonsense. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. I was just surprised to see you here, is all. You’re welcome to come whenever you like,” Belle says, smiling at him.

“This young man saved my life, dearie,” Mrs. Potts says with a smile, setting a plate of biscuits on the table and sitting down across from LeFou. “The least I can do is make him tea once in a while. Would you like a cuppa, your Highness?”

Belle blushes at the title. “Please, Mrs. Potts. I spent the first nineteen years of my life as ‘the inventor’s daughter;’ I’m not used to being royalty.” She sits down at the small table, though, and accepts a cup from Mrs. Potts. Then she turns to LeFou. “How’s Gaston?” she asks.

LeFou gapes at her. “You want to know about Gaston’s wellbeing? After what he did to you and the Prince?”

“Gaston and I have… our differences,” Belle says carefully, then grimaces. “You know how it was…”

“Bad,” LeFou supplies, well aware it was much worse than “bad.” But Belle smiles with understanding and nods.

“Yes,” she agrees, “It was bad. But you have been friends forever, and I know how you care for him. You’re a good person, LeFou, and if you can see good in Gaston, well… then I hope he is recovering. For your sake.”

LeFou shifts in his chair. He takes a drink of his tea to stall, glancing at Mrs. Potts as he does so. The cook merely shrugs unhelpfully. At last LeFou finds his voice.

“I don’t know if there’s any good left in him. If there ever was any to begin with; I’m starting to wonder if I didn’t just pretend to see the good in him.” LeFou pauses, staring darkly into his tea. There is a small part of him that still jumps to Gaston’s defense, and that part is insisting that Gaston _is_ good. LeFou ignores it. “I stayed with him while he was still unconscious, and spoke to him when he woke up. I haven’t seen him since, and I don’t intend to.”

LeFou watches Mrs. Potts and Belle exchange a look he can’t decipher, but he suspects it includes pity. “Do you think I made the wrong decision?” He asks in surprise. Mrs. Potts and her son almost died thanks to Gaston’s fear-mongering, and Belle has always been irritated by Gaston’s antics. LeFou doubts Gaston’s attempted murder of Belle’s fiancee has served to redeem him in her eyes.

Belle frowns for a moment. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m Gaston’s biggest fan, everything considered. But he always seemed to respect you. He listened to you and valued your opinion, didn’t he? That must count for something. He may not have been particularly humble, but he seemed to be a good friend to you. Until…”

“Until he wasn’t,” he finishes for her.

“Until he wasn’t,” Belle agrees.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

LeFou has had four friends his entire life. Actually, he had one friend for the first twenty years of his life. Tom, Dick, and Stanley hadn’t come around until after he and Gaston returned from the war, an entourage that remained after the villagers finished celebrating Gaston’s heroism all day, everyday. The entourage turned into drinking buddies, which grew into friendship.

He doesn’t see the others very often these days. He spends his days hiding in his office on the main road in town, a clerk job he only half worked when he was friends with Gaston. Most days, he went to work in the morning, only to clock out at lunchtime and not return, lured on another hunting trip by Gaston. Now he has nothing better to do during the week but work.

At night, LeFou avoids the tavern, sure he will find Gaston there. He knows the tavern is also the most likely place he’d find his other three friends, but he is not ready to risk it yet. He keeps to himself in general, mostly. The villagers are friendly to him. They were cautious the first few weeks after the debacle at the castle, but after they realized he was no longer Gaston’s shadow, they warmed to him again. If anything, they seem to accept him even more than before; everything with Belle and the beast-- _Prince Adam_ , now-- has made the villagers more tolerant. Still, he is keenly aware of his part in what happened, and he isn’t ready to let himself forget it.

“He doesn’t go to the tavern.” Stanley says when LeFou finally speaks to him again after the ball at the castle. Rather, LeFou found himself walking by Stanley’s door when it was thrown open and LeFou was dragged bodily into the house by Stanley, swearing at him to _“Stop being a fucking loner and be a better friend, dumbass.”_ Stanley isn’t actually angry with him, though; he understands LeFou’s reluctance to frequent the friends’ usual haunts. “I haven’t seen him there. He barely leaves his house, LeFou.”

LeFou sets down his fork and looks at Stanley with wide eyes. He supposed after a few days of bed rest, Gaston would return to his usual swaggering self. But he realizes now that he would have seen Gaston at least once on his walk to and from work; it is a small village, after all. Yet there has been no trace of long black hair, no flash of a red coat, no sound of the self-important voice. Has Gaston really been holed up in his house this whole time? Both of them, hiding from the world and each other. LeFou’s heart stutters a little with ill-placed pity before he swallows and quiets it. Gaston doesn’t deserve his pity. Not now.

“Have you spoken to him at all since… since that night?” Stanley asks, frowning at LeFou’s surprise.

“Have _you_?” LeFou counters, defensive. Does no one agree with his decision to walk away from Gaston?

Stanley continues to frown. “You and I both know that when it comes to Gaston, you have far more experience than any of us.”

“He left me for dead under a fucking piano, Stanley! And you want me to, what, go back to feeding his ego and hunting with him like nothing’s changed? The last straw should have come far sooner than that. You know what he’s like.”

“LeFou.” Stanley says slowly, like he is speaking to a child. “I get that he’s an ass. I think you would’ve admitted that even before the Belle fiasco. The villagers want nothing to do with him. Tom and Dick want nothing to do with him. You didn’t hear it from me, but they were drinking to his _absence_ in the tavern the other night. I’m not sure I want anything to do with him, either. But if anyone can pull him back to humanity, or as close to it as Gaston will ever get, it’s you. You don’t have to do it; you don’t owe him anything, and it’s not your responsibility. I’ve only seen him maybe twice in three weeks, but he’s a mess without you, LeFou. A mess.”

“I don’t want anything to do with him.” LeFou says, though a part of him aches over Stanley’s words. _He’s a mess without you, LeFou_.

Stanley shrugs and lays his hands, palms down, on the table. “That’s your decision to make, LeFou. I just thought you should know.”

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

“Hello, LeFou, I’m glad you could join us.” Belle says, smiling at him from across the library. LeFou hesitates in the doorway, still unsure how he’s come to befriend the inhabitants of the castle. The first day, the afternoon he walked away from Gaston’s side, when Mrs. Potts welcomed him into the warm, sunlit kitchen for tea, she also invited him to come the next week. That week, she invited him for the next week, and so on, until weekly tea at the castle becomes a habit. At first, it was just Mrs. Potts, and occasionally Belle, too. After a few weeks, Mr. Potts, Chip, and even the Prince accompanied them in turns. Chip comes most often, and LeFou has developed a kind of kinship with the boy. Chip is small for his age, like LeFou had been. But he has an infectious joy LeFou never had, and it charms him.

LeFou glances beside him, where Mrs. Potts stands, one hand still on the door handle. She nods to him encouragingly, and then turns and walks away. Last week at tea, Chip asked if LeFou would visit more often, to which LeFou had agreed, after finally finding his voice. The shock of making a friend without Gaston’s influence is new, and a little bewildering.

“We’re reading a book!” Chip says excitedly, waving him over. LeFou smiles and walks towards them, not pointing out to the boy that there isn’t much else they could be doing in a _library_. “Do you like to read, LeFou?” Chip asks.

LeFou closes the remaining distance in silence, wondering how best to explain to the child. He sits down beside Chip, and speaks at last. “I haven’t read much since I was a child in school. I was never very good at it,” he admits.

“Oh, but books are so wonderful!” Chip exclaims. “There are all sorts of stories: exciting ones about pirates and soldiers, gross ones about love, and scary ones about monsters and ghosts. I’ll help you read them, LeFou. You can’t get good at something if you don’t practice, right, Belle?”

Belle laughs a little and ruffles Chip’s hair. “That’s right, Chip.” To LeFou, she adds, “It might be a good way to pass a few hours, ignoring the world around you.” She smiles sympathetically at him.

“All right,” LeFou agrees, looking at Chip so he won’t have to see the pity in Belle’s eyes. “What are you reading?”

“ _Gulliver’s Travels_!” Chip says happily. “We’re only a few chapters in, but we can start over so you can read it all. Is that all right, Belle?”

“Of course. We can take turns reading a page.”

“I don’t know about that,” LeFou says cautiously. “My reading will slow you down.”

“It’s okay. I can help you sort out the words you don’t know.” Chip says with a bright smile. LeFou finds himself smiling back and agreeing.

So starts another tradition between LeFou and the inhabitants of the castle. Two days a week LeFou has tea with Mrs. Potts and others, and then finds Chip and Belle in the library to read books. At first, LeFou can only read two or three words before tripping up. But Chip is right: after a few sessions, LeFou finds he can read almost an entire page without Chip’s help. Belle starts lending LeFou books to read at home, and he realizes shortly afterwards that he actually enjoys reading. It helps him pass the hours after work, evenings he once would have spent with Gaston and the others at the tavern, which he is still avoiding even after his visit with Stanley.

And LeFou reads everything: daring stories of swashbucklers and rogues and wars; magical fairytales; histories of France, the Potts’ native Britain, and other nations; even the romances Chip finds so disgusting. They take time to read, and LeFou looks up the big words in a dictionary Belle gives him. Books become as important to him as the new friends he has made.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

There’s a knock at the kitchen door that Saturday just as LeFou and Mrs. Potts are sitting down to tea. It’s just them today; Belle and Prince Adam are taking a walk around the castle grounds, Mr. Potts is in the village for the day, and Chip informed LeFou and his mother that he’d apparently promised the Maestro’s dog he’d play fetch with him. Belle had only stayed long enough to say hello, and to give LeFou a new book to read.

Mrs. Potts opens the door and LeFou looks up to see who it is. “Agathe,” he says.

“Hello, LeFou.” Agathe looks at Mrs. Potts. “Forgive me for my intrusion, madam. I needed to speak to LeFou.”

“Come in, Agathe.” Mrs. Potts says kindly, moving aside to allow the woman to enter. “Would you like some tea?”

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Potts. Yes, please.” She sits down at the table as Mrs. Potts bustles over to the cupboard to fetch another cup.

“What is it, Agathe?” LeFou asks. He hasn’t spoken to her since the last day he saw Gaston, though unlike his old friend, he’s seen Agathe in town many times.

“It’s Gaston. Have you seen him recently?” She asks.

“Of course not. Not after what he--”

“I know what he’s done,” Agathe interrupts. “ _Believe me_ , LeFou. I know.”

Mrs. Potts sets down the cup of tea in front of Agathe, and Agathe thanks her before continuing. “I saved him because I believe people can change. I have seen his brand of arrogance before.” She glances at Mrs. Potts when she says that; Mrs. Potts nods gravely as though in agreement, but LeFou can’t make sense of that. “But sometimes those people need a little push. A little forgiveness can go a long way, LeFou.”

“I’ve walked away from him. I can’t go back. I’m better off without him.” LeFou says, but if Agathe thinks he should go back to Gaston, LeFou wonders if he took the right path after all.

“He doesn’t deserve you. He never did. I agree with that,” Agathe says. “But he needs help to change. He’s practically bleeding remorse; he just needs help putting action to those feelings of guilt. This is a new experience for him.”

“Let him figure it out himself. I’m done being his crutch and his shadow.” LeFou says.

Agathe sighs heavily; Mrs. Potts remains quiet. “He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. He’s not taking care of himself, LeFou. I don’t think he’ll live much longer if he doesn’t have a friend. A _friend_ , not a crutch or a shadow.” She says. She takes another long drink of her tea, and then stands. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Potts.” To LeFou, she adds, “Please think about it. People can change, but sometimes they just need a little help to find the strength to do it.” And then she turns and walks out of the castle.

The kitchen is silent for a few moments. LeFou doesn’t touch his tea, doesn’t look at Mrs. Potts. He stares at his hands, struggling with everything Agathe said.

_He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. He’s practically bleeding remorse._

Stanley had warned him of this weeks ago. _He’s a mess without you._

“LeFou.” Mrs. Potts' voice is gentle.

“I can't,” LeFou hates how his voice breaks when he speaks. “After all he's done--”

“Look at me.”

LeFou obeys. The woman's eyes are as soft as her voice. “I know what he's done. I know that his actions make you feel guilty, and that you hate that. But listen to me, dearie. Only Adam can forgive Gaston for what he's done to Adam. Only Belle can forgive him for what he's done to her. And only you can forgive him for what he's done to you. You don't have to forgive him for everything he has done to everyone. In fact, you don't have the authority to forgive what he's done to others; that's their choice. All you can do is decide if you forgive him for how he has wronged you.”

LeFou listens, and knows she is right. A weight feels lifted off his shoulders, one he realizes he’s been carrying for weeks. He doesn't have to forgive Gaston for everything, just what he has done to him. And that is easier. He stands.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Potts asks.

“To him.” he replies. Mrs. Potts smiles.

“Good for you. Wait a moment; I'll put some food together for him.” she says, turning to the cupboards.

LeFou is moved almost to tears by her kindness. “Thank you,” he replies, feeling his voice tremble with gratitude. “Thank you,” he says again.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

LeFou takes the bundle of food and goes directly to Gaston's house in the village. The horse ride takes longer than LeFou would like, but he arrives soon enough. He enters the house without knocking.

The main room of the cottage is in disarray. Fruit rots in a bowl at the center of the long wooden table, flies swarming the fragrant mush. Dirty clothes and muddy boots lie across the floor. Gaston was never dedicated to cleanliness, but he usually kept his home more organized than this. LeFou’s heart aches at the scene, and he knows he’s made the right choice to come here.

Gaston sits across the room from LeFou at the far end of the table. He looks up when LeFou enters. He stands so fast when he recognizes LeFou that his chair rocks with a clatter, but it does not fall.

Agathe was right; he looks terrible. He's still in the underclothes that LeFou saw him in last, the last morning he thought he'd ever be in the same room with Gaston. In spite of himself, his heart breaks at the sight of Gaston.

“LeFou!” Gaston gasps, and it's all LeFou can do to keep himself where he is. He's not sure if he wants to run toward the taller man or away from him; he suspects a little of both.

He takes a deep breath when Gaston says nothing more, determined to say his part before he loses his nerve. “I cannot speak for Belle or the Prince, for Maurice or Agathe, for Mr. or Mrs. Potts or the other servants at the castle or for the villagers. I cannot speak for anyone but myself. And I--I forgive you, Gaston.”

Gaston stares at him, wide eyed with disbelief. His face is so pale, and he has dark circles beneath his eyes. _“He doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep,”_ Agathe had told him. “I forgive you,” LeFou whispers again before he can stop himself. Gaston lets out a very unGaston-like sob and falls back onto his chair, covering his face with his hands. LeFou watches his shoulders shake for a moment before he sets the bundle of food and Belle's book on the table and goes to him.

LeFou turns Gaston's chair so he is facing out. He bends forward slightly so he is eye level with the man sobbing with remorse, guilt, and relief. He hasn’t seen Gaston weep since they were children, and it’s unsettling. He slowly pulls Gaston's hands from his face. He needs Gaston to understand this forgiveness. Gaston looks at him with wet eyes and LeFou says earnestly, “I don't know if the rest of the world will--”

“What do I care for the rest of the world,” Gaston interrupts him, “When I have you?”

LeFou's heart feels like it will burst from joy. He gives Gaston a small smile, and Gaston smiles back. Gaston wraps his arms tentatively around LeFou's waist and presses his face against him. LeFou places his hand on the back of Gaston's head and pulls him closer. They stay like that in silence for a long moment, Gaston weeping into LeFou's shirt and LeFou trying not to cry, too.

Finally, because it needs to be said, LeFou steels his resolve and looks down at the black haired head pressed against him. “You know I love you, right?”

Gaston does not seem to respond for a moment. LeFou holds his breath, fully expecting to be pushed away. And then Gaston nods, and says something, but his words are muffled against LeFou's shirt, and LeFou cannot hear him. Gaston does not push him away, so LeFou holds him longer, and waits for his tears to slow.

“When did you eat last?” LeFou asks when they pull away at last.

“Three, four days ago, I think,” Gaston says.

“ _Gaston_ ,” LeFou admonishes.

“I'm sorry,” Gaston replies. “I was...”

“I know.” LeFou gets a plate and begins to undo the bundle on the other side of the table.

“Where did you get that?”

“Mrs. Potts, the cook at the castle.”

“How--?”

“We've become friends. Now, don't eat too fast. There's more if you want it, but three days without food will make you sick if you devour it all in one bite.” LeFou says, bringing Gaston the plate.

“Thank you,” Gaston says, smiling. “What would I do without you?”

“Look around you,” LeFou says, raising his eyebrows. Gaston looks at him apologetically before taking a bite of the bread. He looks across the table, and then back at LeFou, his own eyebrows raised.

“What is that?” he asks, pointing down the table. LeFou follows his finger, and feels himself blush slightly.

“It's a book.”

“I didn't know you could read.”

“Chip's been teaching me.”

“I see.” Gaston looks away, frowning. “And do you _like_ this Chip?”

LeFou stares at him, open-mouthed. “What? Of course not!” Then he stops, realizing Gaston doesn't have a clue who Chip is. “Gaston, Chip is a little boy. He's Mrs. Pott's son, barely ten years old.”

“Oh.” Then, “What kind of book is it?”

“Poems. It belongs to Belle. She says poems use simple enough words that a beginning reader can still read it, but have more complex ideas than those dull books they use to teach little children to read. ' _See Jeanne run,'_ you know.”

“Well then,” Gaston says, gesturing between LeFou and the book. “Go on.”

“What?”

“Read me some.” he says.

“Really?”

“Why not?”

LeFou exhales heavily, as though getting ready to do something very hard. He never thought Gaston would ask him to read to him, but then, he didn’t think he’d ever speak to Gaston again, either. Or hear Agathe actually say Gaston deserves forgiveness, or confess his love to the man. It has been a very surreal day as it is; what’s one more odd occurrence? “All right,” LeFou agrees at last. He sits down across from Gaston and opens the book. He reads.

He almost stops halfway through the first stanza. Belle is right; he can read the words without a problem, but what gives him pause is the surreality of the situation: he has borrowed a book of what appears to be _love_ poems from Belle, and he is reading them to Gaston, whom he has loved for almost as long as he has known him.

He reads a few poems, refusing to look at Gaston, even as he watches LeFou while he eats the bread, cheese, and ripe fruits.

LeFou doesn't realize he's weeping as he reads the fifth poem (which seems to be about unrequited love) until he sees Gaston stand out of the corner of his eye and begin to walk toward him. He continues to read, not looking up, until Gaston has reached him. The man gently takes the book out of his hand and carefully lays it on the table. He kneels down to be eye level with LeFou. He searches LeFou's tear-stained face as LeFou tries to get his emotions under control.

“LeFou. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He whispers, his throat raw with emotion. He hesitates a moment before he brings his hands up and places them on either side of LeFou's face. A rough thumb swipes a tear away as he looks into LeFou's eyes. “I have made so many mistakes, about so many things.”

LeFou says nothing, just stares down at Gaston and breathes. For the second time today, Gaston is so close. It takes all of LeFou's willpower not to grab the man and kiss him hard, desperately, like he'll fall to his death again any minute and leave LeFou bereft. But then Gaston breathes, too, and begins to rise a few inches. His hands do not leave LeFou's face. He leans forward.

“LeFou,” is all he says, whispers, exhales. And then his lips are on LeFou's and LeFou can't believe it, but he's not about to question it now. The kiss is soft and brief, and all too soon Gaston is moving away. But what Gaston does next is so much better than the kiss that LeFou forgives him instantly for the shortness of it.

“I love you,” Gaston whispers when he breaks the kiss, an instant before he commences another kiss. “So damn much.” He kisses him again and again, and LeFou's world is nothing but bursts of light and Gaston, his hands everywhere now, his lips roaming across LeFou's face. LeFou nips Gaston’s bottom lip when he returns them to LeFou's own.

“Come here,” LeFou gasps, wrapping his arms tightly around Gaston's body and pulling the man onto his lap.

“I love you,” Gaston says again in reply, still kissing him and touching him and holding him so sweetly that LeFou can't help but believe him. It's at this point that LeFou realizes he hasn't said it back. He knows he did before, but he'd tried to keep it as casual as possible in case Gaston didn't want the whole truth. But now he whispers it, gasps it, and when he has full control of his mouth again, he says it louder.

He can feel Gaston smiling when the man kisses him again, and LeFou grins, too. In the back of his mind, a nagging little voice reminds him that the others, in the village and up at the castle, will judge him for this, for the forgiveness he has extended to Gaston. Yes, Stanley and Agathe tried to bring him back to Gaston’s side, and Mrs. Potts gave LeFou the final push he needed to return to his old friend. But there are so many others whose opinions are not known to him, so many others who may still hate Gaston for all he has done. LeFou has no idea what they will think, but he has Gaston by his side again, and in his arms.

Later, Gaston will ask if he's worried about what the villagers will think of him. He will press his body against Gaston's and ask, “Why should I be worried? I have you, which is all I've ever needed.”

Gaston will smile and actually _blush_ (LeFou would not have thought him capable of it), and then pull him close to kiss him tenderly. They will be together. It's all they both need.

 


End file.
